 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 19:50:45 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 138975
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => That is just the way it Goes (Tom Banks was a Tenth of It)
[time] => 2007-12-04 18:08:45
[hometext] => Notes. Ramble. Yadda Yadda. A comment for my conscience-it's here
[bodytext] => Along the border of Meriden where the project line collides Sat Tom Banks silent one night with his little girl asleep by his side, Her hair was knotted and shrill, her dress was a hand me down There was no heating inside of the house and there was no mother around Abandoned by their nurture, the man and his hopes and joys Kept keeping on with the days and dealt with the roars of the noise That consumed them in the city of the richest State in the east Like a pair of orphaned cubs lost from the attack of a savage beast Their backyard was a front yard for another family The nature they had was sidewalk and a plastic Christmas tree And the roots of rubber never breathe or find the strength to grow But as they say, that’s just the way, that’s just the way that it goes Tom Banks went into a temp agency to plead for minimum wage But his hands couldn’t lift heavy boxes and his face was catching up with his age It was nothing they could do for him; it wasn’t their place to care It was about filling deadlines and supplying the wealth to their shares All along the city, Tom played a game with his time The sun always seem to go down in convenient strikes of crime It was almost like God was listening and sending out rotten advice And that to Tom seemed likely, because for him Heaven never seemed that nice So while his girl was at home cutting construction paper in shapes He wandered over to a gun store and fell to his knees by its gates Than proceeded to give up his last dollar in a pistol he held in the midnight glow But as they say, that’s just the way, that’s the way that it goes The next day met with the busy heat, Meriden was alive Business men walked dirty streets thinking figures and plans to contrive As poor men rode on children’s bikes doing wheelies up the hills In perfect utopian arrogance of Americana’s ills In a random pizza corner shop, Tom Banks walked through the door His trigger was set on the management; his heart was upon the floor Time was freezing rapidly, several shots were fired, and they rang out The place was crawling with cops before the customers knew what it was about And Tom was down by the register with a bullet that landed below his eye It was a bloody sad portrayal; it looked as if he’d cried Five blocks down was his daughter, making a paper, picture rose But as they say, that’s just the way, that’s the way that it goes So a daughter has lost a father and a father has lost his soul And a pizza shops lost it’s ratings and the planet has lost control We seem to understand action before acting on what’s wrong And we keep on loosing sight of the need because the want keeps wanting so strong Trust on forgetting the absence of a truth staring you in the face Walk the streets of your most rich nation and pretend it’s some other place Where they could get away with a story as sad as Tom Bank’s Instead of counting all your blessings and reveling in your thanks If you ever felt that something was wrong with the way that this place is run Keep your mouth muffled, your opinion’s only of one And remember there’s misery, dramatic highs and dramatic lows But that’s the way it’s always been, that’s just the way that it goes [comments] => 1 [counter] => 194 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Franciswolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com